


passion and where it takes you

by blurredcosmos



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Flower Crowns, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurredcosmos/pseuds/blurredcosmos
Summary: Sakuya makes flower crowns by the river.
Relationships: Implied Sakuma Sakuya/Usui Masumi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	passion and where it takes you

**Author's Note:**

> "I've always been searching with all my might for a place to belong."

The riverbank looks different today. With the sun close to setting, it seems like the whole place is bathed in light, the hot glare akin to what one would feel standing in front of the stage. The pinkish rays made the flowers almost glow, vivid and bright, in contrast to the overgrown shadows dancing along the ground.

Seated in the middle of that grassy plain, Sakuya picks a violet from the pile in front of him and adds it to the chain. 

For the usual passersby on the sidewalk, mothers carrying shopping bags from the local supermarket or a group of teenagers going to the nearby cafe, seeing the boy there is a regular occurrence. Holding a script in one hand, he recites lines to an invisible audience almost everyday. But even someone like him took the time to stop and smell the roses. And those metaphorical roses manifested in the stream of pink and purple that he holds in his hands right now. 

He handles the flowers with care, gently moving their stems and twining them together. It's gone on for a while now, long enough that he can no longer break them apart with an accidental snap. Inside, he feels relieved. At least this he doesn't have to worry about falling apart. 

His script is propped open in front of him. If he leans forward, he'd be able to make out the highlighted words and messy scrawls written near the edge. The middle of the paper is lined with wrinkles, marks left behind when he would get a bit too passionate, or carried away.

The wind comes, suddenly, blowing past him and upsetting both the flowers and the papers. He takes one of his hands off the violets and grips the fluttering pages. Waiting for the wind to die down, he inhales the faint scent of rain that came along with it.

He'd probably have to go back soon.

Quietly, when the breeze falters, he threads another flower through the growing crown, inserting a cherry blossom next to the violets. He doesn't quite remember when he gained this habit, this routine of braiding and joining stems to create something beautiful.

What he remembers is the feeling of the petals tickling his hand, and his fingers fumbling around in an attempt to put them together. He remembers the wilted flowers and misshapen chains, the furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists. It seems like everything in the world requires hard work, even things as inconsequential as flower crowns. 

But if there was only one thing that Sakuya never learned how to do, it would be giving up. 

And so he tried again, and again, and again. A dandelion crown made underneath the desk of his seat, and a jasmine one before he went to bed. Gerbera flowers bought at the nearest flower shop turned into a flowing stream of rubies, strung together by the very movement of his hands. 

At this point, he thinks that he's passed the mark for the imaginary bar. Gone above and beyond as he does with most things in his life. Ever since the time of his third home when he started to realize that maybe there was something wrong with him after all. 

He still does them anyways. It's nice to have something that he knew by heart, memories of practice ingrained into his fingertips. It also makes for a good pastime, at least. 

Looking down at the violets in his lap, he brings one of them up and turns it around in the palm of his hand. Where he got these flowers were a bit unconventional, he'll admit. 

He had happened upon a bush full of them a day ago when he took a different route to get here. From the look of it, it was constantly tormented by the kids near the playground. Errant balls and miscalculated steps all served to put it in a worse shape. And yet, those flowers were the most beautiful ones he had ever seen.

Their purple hue glowed in the afternoon light, as if dusted by glitter off a little girl's bow. His fingers twitched. He can't help but feel like he's seen them before. 

(Striking violet eyes and a name whispered among the hallways- staring at the boy's back and at the headphones blocking out the rest of the world, Sakuya thought that he looked a bit lonely.)

He didn't quite understand why but the next thing he knew; his hands were reaching for the ones that had fallen, all wilting and crumpled edges. As if he was chasing the afterimage seared into his eyelids. Now here they lay, among the green of the tickling grass and the pink of the falling cherry blossoms.

Privately, he thinks that violet went well with pink. 

He closes his hand around the flower and carefully loops it with all the others. With some luck, he would be able to get it finished before the rainfall. He had hoped that he could squeeze in a few more minutes of practice after but it seems like this is as far as he can go today. 

Although— “Cast aside your household and your name, Julius." He whispers it under his breath, face scrunching up as he repeats the lines, "We have an even greater dream.” 

He could work on memorizing the words this way at least. Even if he couldn't improve his actions, it's still something. 

He remembers what Yuzo told him once when he came to visit the troupe's rehearsals. Those scathing remarks lived in his head.

He was an awful lead, not knowing the first thing about theater.

Stuttered, broken lines and words that lacked feeling. 

Gripping the petals a little tighter, he wonders how they could lack feeling when all he could do was feel. He's bursting at the seams, emotions bundled together under his cheerful and optimistic smiles.

He isn't a fool. He knows that acting isn't easy, hadn't thought it since the first few times his auditions turned empty-handed. But still he pressed forward, with a bouncing gait and a spring in his step, because in the end aren't dreams conquered by never giving up? Wouldn't his efforts bear fruit someday even if it was far off in the future? It's all that he had going for him. He can't stop now.

That's right. Stopping would mean failure. And he can't let this slip away from him, not when it's finally starting to mean something.

Just keep pushing. 

It'll break through.

It has to. 

(Something drops down on the top of his head.) 

Huh?  
A continuous sound echoes in his ears, faintly at first but gaining volume the more he focuses on it.  
His eyes clear.  


'Ah', Sakuya raises a hand up and lets small specks of water fall into his palm, 'it's raining.' 

The first few raindrops come falling down, splashing water over the violets and his open script. They slide down blades of grass, sparkling brightly, and making it damp to touch. For a moment, he sits there, staring at the darkening flowers and letting the silent drops gently hit his head. It's getting darker now. The sky is gray, completely hiding all traces of light. He wonders. 

Bzzt- bzzt-

Another sound drowns out the rain and distracts him from his thoughts. It's his phone, vibrating from his pantpocket. It's been buzzing for a while now which is odd since Sakuya's never received these many messages before. Not from contacts named aunt and uncle but whose messages seemed as if they were talking to a stranger. 

With shaky hands, he turns on his phone and lets himself hope again.

'Sakuya, come home quickly! Director made spaghetti napolitan! It is your favorite, ne?'

'Hey, you'd better have brought an umbrella when you went out. You'll end up catching a cold.'

'You're not back yet, Sakuya? I can drive over if you need me to.'

'...hurry up. director won't let us eat if you're not here.'

'Sakuya-kun, the food is getting cold. I'll have to heat up the curry at this rate, just kidding ^^'

It's all from his troupe members, and the director too, varying degrees of concern written all over them. 

They light up his screen and everything around him and sitting here, under this cold, bleak sky, he feels as if the sun came a bit too early. 

'I'll be there soon' 

His fingers fly across the keys, lighter than before, and he presses send without a second thought. 

Not waiting for a response, he stands up. He gathers his belongings in one hand, the script and the flower crown pressed against his chest. Blinking lightly, he feels something drip down from his eyes. He doesn't bother wiping them away. 

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he runs and makes his way back home. 

\---------------- 

His shoes splash along pools of water, the noise accompanying the sounds of his laboured breathing. The colorful buildings of Veludo Way pass by him in a blur and after a few minutes, he could see the entrance of Mankai's dorm. 

He knows that he looks a bit worse for wear. His socks were wet and they made a squelching sound whenever he moved. Likewise, he could feel the fringes of his hair sticking to his forehead, water falling down and seeping into his sweatshirt. He probably would have had better luck if he waited out the rain.

Getting rained on would put a damper on anyone's day but somehow, he feels happy. Maybe, he places a hand on the door knob, it's because–  
(A smile bursts onto his face and he swings open the door, the unspoken words brimming against his lips finally given form after all these years.)  


—my family is waiting for me.

"I'm home!"

**Author's Note:**

> (One day, while looking at the falling cherry blossoms, Sakuya grabbed an idea, took hold of it, and never let it go.)
> 
> Sakuya says cheers to new beginnings and found families. This is my first fic so I apologize if it's a bit off or if there are some mistakes. Also, stream akaikami no cherry blossom for good gacha luck.


End file.
